


All Too Well

by LadyConstellation



Series: AU Yeah August 2020 [12]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU Yeah AUgust (Miraculous Ladybug), Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Break Up, Childhood Friends, Everything Hurts, F/M, Hurt Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Hurt Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, I'm Sorry, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Sad, Song Lyrics, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25886059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyConstellation/pseuds/LadyConstellation
Summary: August Twelfth Prompt: Childhood FriendsAdrien and Marinette have known each other since middle school. And unfortunately for her, Marinette remembers everything all too well.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: AU Yeah August 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862911
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	All Too Well

Marinette had known Adrien for years before they started dating. They’d met in, what, middle school? He’d been the new kid in school– around kids who’d been around each other since third grade. 

She’d felt pity for him and dragged him around to school events, brought him over to her lunch table every day, taught him the ins and outs of school. By the end of their eighth-grade year, they’d been practically attached at the hip. 

“Dupain-Cheng and Agreste,” The parents would laugh, “Never one without the other,” 

_ Of course, there wasn’t, _ Marinette would think to herself, _ they were best friends. Always and forever.  _

They’d gone to the same high school, dead-set on following each other. Never one without the other, right? Marinette could practically laugh at it now, looking back at her teenage self, the one believed it when he’d said he’d never leave her.  _ Together, always and forever. _

“Yeah, right,” She muttered under her breath, recalling the autumn day at the beginning of their senior year when Adrien had finally asked her out. 

They hadn’t even lasted through the Thanksgiving of their first year at college. But the year they’d spent together– it had been amazing. And Marinette could remember it all too well. 

  
  


_ I walked through the door with you, the air was cold _

_ But something 'bout it felt like home somehow and I _

_ Left my scarf there at your sister's house _

_ And you still got it in your drawer even now _

The first time Marinette had been introduced to Adrien’s family as his girlfriend, it had been a cool autumn day. He’d shown her around his old Parisian hometown, dragging her around shops he had been going to his whole life. 

She could still picture it now; walking through the front door of his sister’s house as the cold air entered with them, seeing his sister, Juliette, dancing around the kitchen with her husband as music softly played and the heater rumbled in the background. Marinette had always wanted a love like that– simple and pure. 

The scarf Adrien had gotten her– the one that matched the scarf she’d given him a few years ago– was left abandoned by the front door as Juliette rushed to greet them, swooping them up in her arms. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” She had exclaimed, and Marinette was so distracted by the time they left that she didn’t even take the scarf back with her. 

She wished she had, though. Adrien should have given it back. Instead, he’d kept it in his drawer, leaving it abandoned like all the other things that reminded him of her. 

If only she had been able to do that, too. Take her feelings and memories and put them in a drawer she’d never open again. It didn’t work like that, though. Adrien had always been better at managing his emotions than her.

_ Oh, your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze _

_ We're singing in the car, getting lost upstate _

_ Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place _

_ And I can picture it after all these days _

Adrien had held her hand in the car– one hand the steering wheel always, but the other grasping one of hers– his dimpled smile showing as they sang along to the songs on the radio. They didn’t have any destination in mind, simply driving around as the autumn leaves fell around them. 

She hadn’t even realized that they were supposed to be together until she saw how  _ right _ it felt to be with him like that. 

Her life before dating him had been fine, of course, but realizing she was in love with him was like finally knowing what to do with a puzzle you never knew quite where to place. 

But that year, she’d known. He belonged right by her side, just as she did his. 

It felt right, being in his arms as he swung her around the Townsquare while she laughed, ignoring the stares of everyone else as he smiled down at her. 

That year he’d always been smiling at her, Marinette remembered. 

She could still picture it, too. The way his eyes crinkled slightly in the corners, the way he only had a dimple on his right cheek, the way that smile– his real one, where his eyes nearly glowed with happiness– had reserved only for her. 

Never for anyone else. Just her. 

_ And I know it's long gone and _

_ That magic's not here no more _

_ And I might be okay _

_ But I'm not fine at all _

He was probably smiling at some other girl like that now, Marinette realized. Surely that was why they’d drifted apart so fast. 

Why they’d gone from spontaneous kisses and dates to robotic kisses on cheeks and forced smiles as they passed between classes in a blink. 

_ How could that happen?, _ Marinette had always wondered,  _ How does something so good turn rotten so quickly? _

That year had been magic. A perfect time before time ran out and everything beautiful turned ordinary. Whatever sort of magic that year had been, it had clearly worn off. 

Because whatever had happened, Adrien didn’t love her anymore. 

_ Adrien didn’t love her. _ The thought nearly made Marinette sick. That small, nagging voice in the back of her head had always reminded her that there might be a day when always and forever wore out, but she’d hoped it never would. 

She had known she would be okay without him, but it wasn’t really about that, was it? You should be able to live without a person, but Marinette had just never wanted to live without him. 

Marinette was okay without him, but she certainly wasn’t fine. Not after the way he’d left her.

_ Oh, oh, oh _

_ 'Cause there we are again on that little town street _

_ You almost ran the red 'cause you were looking over me _

_ Wind in my hair, I was there, I remember it all too well _

On one of the warmer autumn days, Marinette remembered driving around the town with Adrien as he pointed out different places he remembered hanging out before he transferred schools, always reminding her that he wouldn’t change that transfer for the world. 

“Best decision I’ve ever made,” He had said that day, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

She had smiled at him, but rolled her eyes, “Yeah, right. Like you were the one making that decision,” 

As he grinned at her, he had nearly run the red light before hitting the brakes at the last second, “Sorry, Mar. You okay?” 

“Yep,” She had nodded, “You?” 

He had just waved his hand at her, scoffing, “I’m practically Superman, super strong and all that. No need to worry about me,” 

Yes, Marinette remembered that conversation, that day. The way the wind had ruffled through her hair, the way the jolt of the car stopping so quickly had done practically nothing to her heartbeat compared to the smile he’d sent her after. 

She remembered it all too well. 

_ Photo album on the counter, your cheeks were turning red _

_ You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-size bed _

_ And your mother's telling stories 'bout you on a tee-ball team _

_ You tell me 'bout your past, thinking your future was me _

She remembered the way Adrien’s family had pulled out all those photo albums from his elementary and pre-school years. 

His family had been teasing him about the wire-framed classes much too big for his face, the Superman pose he’d hit as his mom took a picture of his new room and she’d comforted him all the while. 

“You looked cute with glasses,” She had said, “And anyway, you’re still Superman now.”

She remembered how he’d sent her a relieved smile, “Right. Of course, Lois Lane,” 

His mother had, of course, continued on with the onslaught of embarrassing stories– Adrien on the tee-ball team and being awful at it, the number of times he’d accidentally hit his own head with his bat, all while Adrien blushed and hid his head in her shoulder. 

They’d told Marinette everything, and she still remembered every last detail. And why wouldn’t she? Everyone had thought the two would be together– always and forever. Both of their families had been so sure they were each other’s futures, and honestly, so had Marinette. 

She’d always thought that Adrien was her future, who else would it be? 

Apparently, he didn’t return that sentiment. 

_“Always and forever is for little kids, Mari,” He had laughed mercilessly, “And honestly, who finds their soulmate in middle school? We’d be better off parting ways for the rest of college.”_   


And Marinette had felt sick. 

_ And I know it's long gone and _

_ There was nothing else I could do _

_ And I forget about you long enough _

_ To forget why I needed to _

It was after that, when he refused to acknowledge the meaning of the promise they’d been repeating to each other for years, the Marinette realized she had lost him a long time ago. 

It wouldn’t matter what she did, or how hard she tried to bring back the boy she’d known since she was a kid. He didn’t love her anymore, and she couldn’t change that. 

Not to say that she didn’t try. Marinette had been so cautious, so careful around him. She spoke in soft tones, didn’t drag him out places he didn’t want to go, she never blamed him when he canceled another date. She told him how much she loved him every day. 

“I love you,” She’d whisper over the phone. 

Before they parted ways to go back to their separate colleges, she had told him gently but firmly, “I love you,” 

Marinette can’t remember the last time she ever told him, though. She most certainly can’t remember the last time he told her. 

It’s funny, really. For all things Marinette remembered about the year she spent with Adrien, she someone managed to forget most of the bad things about him

She forgot what they were. And then she forgot why she would even need to. 

_ 'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night _

_ We dance around the kitchen in the refrigerator light _

_ Down the stairs, I was there, I remember it all too well, yeah _

But she did remember the night she had stayed over at his house. Marinette had been having nightmares back then– awful, dreadful dreams that had her waking up screaming. 

Adrien had been so kind about it; he was always kind about everything. At least back then, he was. He had taken her down the stairs, and hummed the first slow song they’d danced to at Homecoming that year, leading her around the kitchen. 

His green eyes illuminated by the small glow of the refrigerator, he’d kissed the top of her head, murmured words of comfort into her ear, and led her around the room in small, slow, circles. 

“Don’t worry, my lady,” He’d said, “I’ll always be here to fend off your nightmares,” 

Marinette remembered him saying that so  _ clearly _ , almost like it was yesterday. 

Adrien was always so gentle with her, so caring. When her legs were too weak right after the nightmare, he’d carried her down the stairs. Right down, like he’d carry her anyway. Like he’d go anywhere with her. 

She remembered the way his hands felt on her hips, remembered how he was so close to her as he comforted her that his lips brushed her ear, remembered how he’d twirled her around and kissed her so sweetly she swore it could hold off her nightmares for a month. Marinette remembered it all so well. Too well, maybe. 

_ Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much _

_ But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up _

_ Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well _

Marinette still struggled to see where everything had gone so wrong. It had all seemed so perfect, that year they spent together. She’d thought it over– again, and again, and again. 

Maybe she had said something to hurt him, or maybe she’d shared too much with him. Maybe she hadn’t shared enough. How could she try to see what she’d done wrong when she’d thought everything was fine? 

Maybe she’d expected too much of him. Expected him to be too perfect. Too kind all the time. Marinette was never sure– were those first few months really perfect or was he just pretending. 

She had remembered it being amazing. Maybe everything really was amazing until Adrien broke it off. He’d always been so good at controlling his emotions, maybe he was scared of caring too much. 

But she’d loved him so freely, how could he not do the same with her? 

But maybe it really had been a masterpiece until he ruined it. Maybe he really had run scared. Marinette remembered him being afraid of feeling too much all too well. 

_ Hey, you call me up again just to break me like a promise _

_ So casually cruel in the name of being honest _

_ I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here _

_ 'Cause I remember it all, all, all too well _

Once Adrien had broken it off with her, she remembered the next time he called her. Marinette had thought she was just imagining it when she saw his contact pop up on her phone. But she’d picked it up and there was his voice, sounding just the same as he had the day he’d told her he loved her the first time. 

“Hey,” He said, “I just wanted to let you know that my parents are still inviting you over for Thanksgiving,” 

Her brow had furrowed, surprised at the invitation, “Oh, uh okay. I–” 

“It’s not a good idea for you to come,” He’d interrupted. “Because we’re not dating anymore. It would probably be awkward and forced and you’d be better off going somewhere else,” 

Marinette had felt as if he’d just punch her in the stomach. She’d always known Adrien hadn’t been one to mince his words around people he didn’t like. But really, it had never occurred to her once that she’d be one of those people. 

And it was the way he had said it, too, so devoid of emotion. Like it was such a casual thing to say, “Okay,” She had somehow managed to choke out, “Thanks for reminding me. Bye, Adrien,” 

The beep of someone hanging up had sounded soon after and it was all Marinette could do to make her way to her bedroom and close the door behind her before she collapsed to the floor and a low sob escaped her mouth. 

_ Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it _

_ I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it _

_ After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own _

_ Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone _

In the days after Adrien had broken up with her, time didn’t seem to move. Marinette would sit there and go through the motions– wake up, coffee, class, homework, crying, sleep, repeat.

What was only twenty minutes of homework would feel like two hours, and when Marinette broke down at the end of the day, crying for three hours while watching home videos of her and Adrien, it would only feel like half an hour. 

She’d stare at the photos and videos of the years they’d spent as friends, and the one year they'd been dating trying to wonder what had happened to her. What had changed?

While she stared back at her happier, smiling self, she wished and prayed she could somehow go back to that old self. Marinette just wasn’t sure where she’d gone. 

Marinette could remember being that laughing, smiling girl back when Adrien would send her smiles in the halls and loan her his plaid shirts when she was cold. When she would steal his shirts and instead of being mad, he’d just laugh and say they suited her more than him anyway. When Adrien would kiss her senseless as they walked home before they parted ways for bed, only to sneak back into her room and kiss her more.

But her old self was gone now. Because now, Adrien asked for all his old clothes back and mailed back all of Marinette’s clothes and books. Now, Marinette would home alone and collapse into bed immediately without waiting for a knock at her window. 

Without waiting for a warm hug or welcoming kiss. Without waiting for the comforting scent of pine trees and faded cologne. Without waiting for Adrien

Because Adrien wasn’t coming anymore. 

_ But you keep my old scarf from that very first week _

_ 'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me _

_ You can't get rid of it, 'cause you remember it all too well, yeah _

He had kept the scarf she’d accidentally left at his sister’s house. The scarf he’d given her so they would match. The scarf she’d forgotten the first time she’d been introduced as his girlfriend. 

Then again, Marinette had never asked for it back. 

Part of her hoped that he kept it because he missed her. 

Maybe it wasn’t that, though. Maybe it was because it reminded him of simpler times. Maybe because it was like he was back in freshman year, receiving the blue scarf she’d made him. 

But maybe it was because it still smelled like her. Because he still couldn’t find it in himself to throw it out. 

It could be selfish of Marinette to hope he remembered that year just as much as she did, but surely she couldn’t be the only one. 

Surely Adrien remembered that year all too well, too.

_ 'Cause there we are again, when I loved you so _

_ Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known _

_ It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well _

Whenever Marinette thought about Adrien, she couldn’t help but be drawn back to all their dates, their kisses, and when things were good, the way he’d never let her forget how much she loved him. She would always wonder if he had forgotten how much she loved him. 

Marinette can’t imagine Adrien forgetting that, though. 

She can’t imagine him forgetting her– any detail about her. He’d told her as much, back when they were still happy. 

He had practically laughed her off when she’d asked if he would forget her, “Forget about would, Mari. I never even could. You never forget your first girlfriend. The first time you’ve ever really  _ loved _ someone.” 

And they had loved each other,  _ so _ much. Marinette knew that much. She remembered every detail of how special their relationship had been. Even the parents had talked about it– how cute the pair had been. 

Well, she remembered nearly every detail about the two of them. And when she hadn’t, Adrien had reminded her. 

She’d called him one day, in near hysterics, a few days after they broke up. “Adrien, I know you probably don't want to talk to me, and I’m so sorry but–” 

“It’s okay, Marinette,” He’d whispered, “What’s going on?” 

Marinette had sobbed, “I just, I can’t remember. I can’t remember the last time we kissed. Shouldn’t I remember that?” 

She heard him sigh from the other end of the line, “It was the day before I broke up with you. I walked to your house to pick you up and walk you to school. Your face lit up like it always did, even though I’d been awful to you recently. You were wearing one of my t-shirts and that cute pink skirt. You hugged me and as you pulled back, I kissed you. Just a short one and then we walked to school like every other day. That was the last time.” 

And despite everything else, Marinette felt relieved. Adrien remembered it just as well as she did. 

_ Wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all _

_ Down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all _

_ It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well _

Adrien remembers that conversation, that day. The way the wind had ruffled through her hair. 

Adrien remembers leading her around the kitchen while humming songs after her nightmare. Remembers carrying her down the stairs.

Marinette remembers all that, too. She remembers it all too well. And she wishes she didn’t.    



End file.
